


Infundo

by cassiopea (nina_monk)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Body Worship, Chubby Bruce, Chubby!Bruce - Freeform, Dubious Science, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, Food Porn, Hulk science, Multi, Science Bros, Threesome - M/M/M, Weight Gain, fat admiration, feederism, funnel feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk/pseuds/cassiopea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bruce’s Hulk-outs begin taking a serious toll on his human body, Tony and Steve take measures into their own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infundo

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This is a **strong** kink piece (stronger than my other pieces on Ao3), so forewarned is forearmed. See tags. Note: Not set in the _Twice the Man_ universe.

Tony frowned at Bruce’s spread-eagled form on the Avengers common room couch. “C’mon, Big Guy. Time to wake up.” _Don’t do this to me again._

The only response was a deep, rumbling snore. Bruce was even drooling a little on Pepper’s chenille pillows, which would not go over well; she paid top dollar for something that resembled a balding terrier and would not go lightly on Bruce when she found the stain.

Tony nibbled a thumbnail and nudged Bruce with his foot. “Bruce,” he said louder. “Wake up, man.”

Nothing. Nothing but snores.

He’d go with water pistols next – not that they’d worked in the past but y’know, twelfth time was the charm – but he hesitated when Steve strolled in with a towel around his shoulders.

“Don’t tell me he’s still sleeping?” Steve did a double take then headed for the fridge for some water.

“Out like a drunk on a three-day binge,” Tony muttered, not wanting to use the analogy on himself, because yeah, that…might’ve happened once or twice. He tsked and slowly shook his head. “I’m kinda worried now, Steve.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured. He popped the water cap and drank while ambling over. “How many hours has it been?”

Tony’s frowned deepened. “Almost fifty. He should’ve come out of it by now.”

Steve whistled low. “Has he ever slept this long before?”

Tony shook his head and plunked down on the couch. Bruce bounced a little when he sat down, but otherwise was in the exact same position – and in the exact same clothes – as their Thursday movie night. They’d let him sleep because another emergency had gone on, and because he’d already Hulked out three times that week. Fortunately they hadn't needed him. It had been a long day and they’d all crashed after the fight, and they all forgot about Bruce. But now it was early Saturday evening...

“Did he eat anything before going under?”

“Not really. Not as much as he should’ve. He told me if he falls asleep before he eats after a Hulk-out he can slip into something like a diabetic coma, but he’s always said at _most_ he’s under maybe a day, or a day and a half.” 

Steve’s lips turned and he hovered over Bruce’s too-still face. “But he’s never Hulked-out three times in less than a week.”

Tony shrugged sheepishly. “I…I don’t really know. I never asked. He didn’t complain, he just did it. You saw him Wednesday; he was exhausted. But we still made him change.”

Steve clasped a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “We didn’t have a choice, Tony.”

Tony glanced at him. “Didn’t we?”

Tony’s face twisted and he watched Bruce’s eyelids twitch in sleep. But…wait - were his fingers twitching–? He licked his lips as Bruce fought to open his eyes as if caught in a nightmare, and he took a chance. “Wake up, Bruce,” he said loudly. Almost shouting. He roughly shook Bruce's shoulders. “You need to fucking eat, right _now_.”

Steve chewed his lips at the alarm in Tony’s voice, but the shouting had the desired effect: A low, scratchy moan tumbled from Bruce’s throat. Tony motioned to Steve. “Pour a large glass of orange juice, and grab that bag of cookies off the table. And a straw. Grab a straw. ”

Steve immediately complied and in less than ten seconds Tony slapped the straw across Bruce’s mouth. “Drink,” he commanded. “You’re too low and you need the sugar. Hurry.”

A soft slur that made no sense hissed from Bruce’s lips. It took Tony poking him a bunch of times, but the juice slowly traveled up the straw after a few moments. “That’s it,” Tony encouraged. Bruce coughed softly as the juice went down the wrong pipe, but he was finally stirring.

“Uhhn.” Bruce’s head moved an inch as he drunkenly squinted at Tony.

“Drink. It’s orange juice. And eat a cookie.”

“Nuh ‘ungry.”

“Yeah, you are,” Tony said. “Quit arguing with me. You’ve been out for two days.”

“Mmf.” Tony crammed a cookie in Bruce’s mouth and Bruce chewed slowly. He was as wobbly as a religious barfly on a Sunday morning, but they were getting somewhere. It wasn’t great and it still took twenty minutes before Bruce formed coherent sentences, but he was responding.

“You scared the shit out of us,” Tony said, when Bruce finally sat up. The man groaned and held his head in his hands and crooked a finger at the cookie bag.

“Head’s fuckin’ pounding,” he muttered. Tony handed him the cookies and he choked another down.

“Tony said you didn’t eat enough,” Steve said quietly. “You need to start making sure you do, Bruce. This kind of stress can’t be good on you.”

“It’s not,” Bruce admitted. He crammed another cookie in his mouth and rubbed his forehead with his palm. “Plus it’s worse than normal when I come to. Feels like I did a half dozen keg stands, then chased them down with a bottle of Cuervo.”

“So a good night at a frat house,” Tony joked, and Bruce was well enough to glare at him.

“Asshole,” Bruce muttered. He hissed a little between his teeth. “You said…I swear you said I was out for two days. Were you serious?”

“Fifty hours, Bruce,” Tony said quietly, and Bruce groaned. “I thought you said a day and a half was your max.”

“Not any more, I guess.” Bruce made a strangled noise and lay his head against the back of the couch. Steve had the good grace to run a cool cloth beneath the break room tap. “With all the bad guys and all the Hulk-outs and with me getting older…it’s hell.”

“You’ve got to eat,” Steve reiterated. He squeezed Bruce’s shoulder and placed the rag on Bruce’s forehead; Bruce moaned gratefully. “We both have the same serum in our veins, and even I have to eat more often and eat larger meals, or I feel wiped.”

Bruce shrugged lazily. “I don’t need that much until I change, Steve. But by then…”

“It’s too late.”

Bruce slowly nodded. “Yeah. And frankly with all the excitement this week, with the mutant uprisings and the space aliens and dumb super powered kids with stolen SHIELD tech, I’m not surprised.”

Tony got up and grabbed the orange juice container, and filled Bruce’s glass. “Well, it’s not going to happen again,” Tony vowed. “There has to be a better way to get you firing on all cylinders, ‘cause I’m not gonna lose my best lab bro to a coma.”

Bruce rolled his eyes at him, but was too tired to fire back a correction…so Tony knew it was bad. He forced the juice in Bruce’s hand and glared at him until he drank it down.

“There’s an answer for you, Bruce. And I’m going to find it.”

* * *

Three days later, Tony stumbled on some weird Internet blogs. Steve had been helping him search for ideas that could help Bruce, but when he read what Tony found, he jerked up, horrified. “Holy cow, that…that looks _incredibly_ dangerous.”

Tony smirked and read through the article. “If we do it wrong, yeah, we’ll have a Hulk for our trouble. But it doesn’t look too hard to make work.”

Steve shot him a double take. “Are you crazy? We can’t hook Bruce up to that…that Rube Goldberg contraption.”

“Calm down, Captain Prude,” Tony muttered. He rolled his eyes but did a few calculations in his head. “It has to be tested, sure. And Bruce will have to approve the measurements since he’ll be the one using it. But in the end I think it’ll solve his problem.”

“Or kill him.”

“C’mon, Steve. You know that won’t kill him.”

“Us, then, when the Hulk gets mad enough.”

Tony shook his head and ignored him. The more he read, the more convinced he was that this would be perfect, albeit with modifications. But Bruce had to agree first, and Tony would have to sell him on it because it required a lot of fucking trust. And Bruce wasn’t exactly known for his trust issues.

“I’m going to work on a few models tonight,” Tony declared. “Then we can talk to Bruce about it tomorrow.”

“ ‘We,’ huh?” Steve folded his arms. “This is your harebrained scheme, Stark, not mine.”

“Yeah, but we’re in it together, Cap,” Tony muttered. He looked over his shoulder, patently ignoring Steve’s scowl. “You care about him as much as I do. I’m open to ideas, if you have any other ones, but this,” he said, pointing to the screen, “is the best idea I’ve seen, and I think it’ll work fastest. Using this, there’s no chance Bruce could black out from low blood sugar.”

Steve seemed to mull it through and Tony, to his credit, didn’t get impatient with him. This time.

“Okay,” Steve finally sighed. “But we go with what Bruce wants. If he doesn’t think he can keep calm while we…” he gestured awkwardly at the screen. “Well. I’m not trying it, if he thinks he’s going to panic.”

“Trust me, he’s got a lid on it. He won’t panic.”

“Uh, huh,” Steve muttered. “That’s what you said about last year’s flood in the Holland Tunnel.”

“And I paid for those damages, didn’t I?” He made a face. “Just…trust me on this. Bruce will go for it, it’ll work, problem solved.”

* * *

“Are you fucking crazy? _Hell_ no!”

Steve glared at Tony with a raised eyebrow.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Just hear me out, Bruce, will ya?” He inched the tube closer, and Bruce swatted it away. “You…God, Bruce. How else are you gonna get enough food in your gullet before passing out?”

“By eating _faster_ ,” Bruce emphasized. He scowled at the rubber tubing and the oddly shaped funnel, and the stoppers near the rim. “Look, Tony. I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But choking me to death is one of the dumbest ideas you’ve ever had.”

“It’s not going to choke you, you moron. Steve and I will both be on watch. All you have to do is allow it to happen. It’ll be perfect!”

“No way.”

Tony sighed and tried another tactic. “Bruce, at least look at the damn thing. It’s a work of art, if I do say so myself. And I do. It’s specially designed for your specific body, both pre- and post-Hulk, and I solved what would’ve been a horrendous mass flow issue, if you’d suddenly changed to Hulk in the middle of it. I guarantee you, it won’t hurt you in any way, and you have total control over every aspect. But we have to test it before you’re too tired. I mean, what happens if you’re out cold again, and we have a Hulk-need? What’re we supposed to do then?”

That got Bruce’s attention. Tony hated to do it, but tugging on Bruce’s sense of duty, of helping out the team when he’d received so much in return, usually got him listening.

Bruce puffed out a resigned sigh.

“You know you don’t have to try anything Tony throws at you,” Steve interrupted, and Bruce sighed again, even as Tony stuck his tongue out at Steve.

“No, I know,” Bruce muttered. “And as much as I hate it,” Bruce said, shooting Tony a look. “It might be helpful. I have my doubts – I always have my doubts about the things Tony creates—“

“Hey!”

“—but he might not be entirely wrong, in this case. One,” he said, holding up his finger. “ _One_ trial run. That’s it. If it doesn’t work, I’m not doing it again.”

“Deal,” Tony said quickly, and Bruce made a face as if he’d struck a deal with the devil. “Right now?”

Bruce threw up his hands. “Fine, no time like the present, I guess.”

* * *

It took them longer than any of them expected to set it up. Tony attached a volumetric burette to the tubing, and Bruce bemoaned the ridiculousness of it because it was too much flash and not enough SCIENCE. It took Steve mediating before all of them calmed down enough to try it for real, to see if it would actually work.

Bruce switched his feet. “So…should I sit or stand?”

“Sitting’s easier, but it’s up to you. The equipment has a lot of modularity so I can move it to suit your needs.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, and he nervously tested standing, then sitting, then standing again, before choosing to sit. “I’ll sit.”

“It’s not musical chairs, Bruce,” Tony muttered impatiently.

“Tony…” Steve cautioned. He quietly squatted beside Bruce, and Bruce relaxed in Steve’s calming presence. “From what we’ve read,” he said softly, “most people use either straight cream, or ice cream, or a milkshake, or some concoction of their own creation. We could start out with cream, or ice cream maybe.”

Bruce chewed his lip. “Ice cream. It’s…slower. And I think we have a few pints in the freezer. We’ll need to soften it somewhat, but considering it’s consistency and flavor, I don’t think I’d gag on it. I…ah. I’m okay with sweets.”

Tony smirked. “Yeah, I know. I thought for the longest time Thor was eating up all the Pop-Tarts, but Jarvis showed me it was you all along.”

Bruce blushed. “Sorry.”

“Not complaining,” Tony said, holding up a hand. “Just wish you ate them _before_ a mission. “

“Takes too long to eat them when we’re in a hurry.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that again. Think of having your mouth opened to your own private soft serve machine.”

Steve actually shuddered. “Today’s commercial ice cream doesn’t taste anything like what I had growing up.”

“That’s because you’re a cheapskate, and you keep buyin’ the cheap shit,” Tony fired back. “I keep telling you, _Ben & Jerry’s_ is–”

“Anyway,” Steve grumbled, interrupting Tony’s tirade. He went to the freezer, pulled out two pints, and put them in the microwave for a few minutes. “We should probably try this now, before any of us lose our nerve.”

Tony grinned. “Didn’t take long to bring you over to the dark side, did it, Steve?”

Steve made a face and waited beside the microwave. “No, it’s just that I know if we keep talking about it nothing will happen, because you two will go down a science rabbit trail.”

Tony and Bruce exchanged glances. “So,” Tony began. “Pluto. Your thoughts, Dr. Banner?”

“Ah, see, now there’s the thing. A moon has—“

“Okay, okay,” Steve said, and the microwave beeped just in time. “Sheesh.” He tested the consistency of the ice cream and then grabbed a spoon to stir out the lumps and to equalize the temperature. "Should we try this now?”

“Is it too hot, or too cold?”

Steve brought out a spoon and handed it and one of the pints to Bruce. “Taste test?”

Nodding, Bruce took the spoon and the ice cream and gave it a quick little stir before popping it in his mouth. "Mmmm, oh, yeah,” he growled. He hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until he suddenly opened them, and then he caught the looks on both Steve and Tony’s faces.

“What?”

Steve swallowed, but his cheeks were sunburned-red. And Tony’s pupils were positively blown.

“Guys. Seriously. What’s wrong with you?”

Tony was the first to speak. He cleared his throat. “Uh, kinda looked like you were having an orgasm there, Bruce,” Tony said in typical blunt Tony fashion. “I think I almost got a chub looking at your slack-jawed face of ecstasy.”

“God, Tony.”

“And Steve, don’t deny it. You were definitely more red than white and blue.”

Bruce shut his eyes and counted to ten. “Is everything sexual to you?”

“Sexy things are. And people.”

“Never mind,” Bruce said, suddenly feeling too warm. “Let’s get this over with, okay?”

“If you say so, Bruce. But I swear, if I see that face again while we try this, You won’t be leaving this chair for a while.”

Bruce opened his mouth to retort, then wisely closed it. “Uh, let’s just…let’s do the trial run.”

“Good idea,” Steve said, but his voice was scratchy and hoarse. He cleared it when he took the pint from Bruce.

Tony double checked the burette and thumped it, and adjusted the adjoining tubing so it would be short but flexible enough for Bruce to grab if needed. “Here’s how it’ll work,” he explained. “Steve’s gonna pour the ice cream in the funnel. It’ll go down the burette for adjustments, and then slip down the tube, to the regulator. At any time you can cut off the flow here and here–” Tony pointed to two clamps in easy reach “–whether or not you’re able to talk.” Tony handed Bruce an actual electronic panic button. “Use this if the clamps don’t work, or if you absolutely can’t take it anymore. It’ll stop everything right away, and pump whatever’s going through back. Sort of like a vacuum.”

Bruce stared at him. “You’re shoving a vacuum down my throat?”

“No, no, of course not. Well. Not really. Sort of.”

Steve sighed softly and spoke up before they argued again. “All that is well and good, but we should work out some hand signals, just in case.”

Bruce looked up at him. “Like stop, go–stuff like that?”

“Yeah. And faster/slower. It’ll make you feel more in control too, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded. “Good idea.”

It took another five minutes to find a workable hand system, which became some combination of construction work gestures and ASL. Tony was beyond impatient at this point, and kept drumming his hands on the equipment. “Are you guys done yet? C'mon, I want to try this out before some villain fucks up another multidimensional portal.”

“Cut it out,” Bruce grumbled quietly. “Yeah. I…I guess I’m ready.”

Tony smiled at him. “Last chance. You okay with this? Feel calm enough?”

Bruce nodded. “Let’s try it.”

* * *

Bruce’s mouth was strapped to the tube and funnel device, and Tony didn’t realize it when he created it, but it looked like a cross between a medical respirator and a ball gag. Which he guessed it sort of was, since the whole goal was forcing liquid down Bruce’s throat.

Tony triple-checked the mouthpiece, making sure it was secure and steady, and making sure the release catch was in Bruce’s easy reach. “You okay in there?”

Bruce gave him two thumbs up and nodded.

“All right, then.” He looked at Steve.

Steve sighed and slowly poured the now liquid ice cream into the funnel, where it settled into the burette. Tony opened the stopcock and manipulated the tube, while quietly whispering encouragements to Bruce. When the ice cream first hit Bruce’s lips he tensed and gripped the sides of the chair, but Tony was there.

“Talk to us,” he soothed. “More? Less?”

Bruce paused and gestured a “slower” hand signal. Tony manually adjusted the stopcock until they achieved a slower flow, and Bruce made the “ok” sign.

“Good.” Tony made eye contact with Steve. “It’s going well. Not as fast as I predicted, but Bruce seems to be taking it okay.”

What neither Steve nor Tony expected, though, was the expression that slowly settled on Bruce’s features the longer they continued: A look of pure contentment combined with something that probably could only be measured in pornographic terms. Tony swallowed and looked away as Bruce’s thick lashes fluttered and a smoky expression pinked the corners of his cheeks.

“Shit,” Steve muttered and Tony’s eyes shot up in worry, but it had nothing to do with anything going wrong. Steve was staring at Bruce, and Steve was definitely turned on.

 _Virgin my ass_ , Tony thought.

Of course it was around then that a dark, throaty moan came from Bruce’s chest. How, Tony had no idea, considering all the crap he was hooked to, but it was there, nonetheless.

“Bruce is…in the motherfucking _zone_ ,” Tony grunted, completely unaware he’d said it out loud. “It’s like he’s blissed out and orgasming at the same time.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, and the soldier suddenly adjusted his pants. Tony did some adjusting of his own, suddenly grateful for the decision to wear baggy khakis today.

He cleared his throat and shook himself. “Uh, did you pour in the rest of the ice cream?”

Steve nodded and took a cue from Tony’s book by focusing on something else. Anything other than Bruce’s enraptured face. “Can he even hear us right now?”

A slow, shaky thumb came up, and somehow Bruce grinned under the contraption. He made another small sign.

Tony blinked. “More? You want _more_?”

Bruce closed his eyes and nodded, and Tony exchanged a look with Steve. “Do we have any more ice cream?”

Steve went to check the freezer. “A half gallon of the stuff you hate, and three pints - two chocolate, one vanilla.”

Bruce made the ok sign and made a sign that they all agreed he’d use for “all.”

“Holy shit…you sure?”

Bruce’s eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly nodded.

"All right,” Tony drawled, licking his lips. “But don’t complain to me if you get a bellyache.”

* * *

It took an hour. A very long, very torturous hour of watching Bruce wriggle and moan and squeeze and rub his hand over his expanding stomach. The only thing Bruce didn’t do was jack off, but hey, Cap left the room twice for fifteen minutes to go to the bathroom and it wasn’t hard to figure out why.

Tony thought about it his own damn self, but his scientific curiosity won over his baser instincts. Bruce’s reaction was wild, really wild, and he wanted to know why.

A couple minutes after he sucked the ice cream dry, Bruce exited his fugue. He tapped the mask but was too food drunk to do much else, and Tony had to remove the straps from his face. Steve was in the room and could’ve helped, but Tony figured he still felt pretty damn guilty for running out, poor guy (although Tony also felt a bit envious). Fortunately they were both spared from speaking first.

“Holy fuck,” Bruce slurred when the mask was off. His lips and inner cheeks were glistening and sticky, coated with the remnants of his indulgences. But Bruce didn’t care and grinned like a cat who’d eaten a 50-proof canary. “Holy fuck…holy frickin’ fuck–”

“Ah, yeah, we get it. And you said that already, multiple times.” Tony gently bit his lip. He looked over at Steve who swallowed and slowly approached.

“Are…are you okay, Bruce?”

Bruce’s eyes lit up and his shiny, plastered grin was like those crazy airport hippies who claimed to see God in a bowl of cornflakes. “Okay?” Bruce hiccuped. He pawed at Steve’s arm and giggled a little. “Am I okay? I reached Nirvana. I collided with the entire Milky Way galaxy and created a new universe.”

“O-o-okay then,” Tony smirked. He shook his head and exchanged a look with Steve. “Well, I could tell you, there were definitely a few big bangs on our end.” Steve shifted and it was all Tony could do to not bust out laughing.

“What Tony means, Bruce,” Steve began slowly. His brows knit, as if he were trying to find the best words to say, and Tony folded his arms. What the hell could Steve possibly say that wouldn’t sound totally pervy?

“Um. You were really out of it and…into it, I guess. It was…um. A little unnerving.”

“Oh,” Bruce said softly. He struggled to sit up, and Tony helped him as he shook off his literal sugar high. “Whew. I’m…kinda dizzy.”

Tony frowned. “In a good way, or–?”

“Oh, no, no. Definitely a good way.” He belched and looked down, amazed at how round and full his tummy appeared. “I look pregnant.”

“Come on,” Steve said softly. He grabbed Bruce’s arm and steadied him, and helped him stagger to the couch. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Bruce murmured. Steve laid him out on the cushions, then he motioned to Bruce’s pants; Bruce’s stomach was strained and pinched over the belt buckle.

“Go ahead,” Bruce said sleepily. Steve undid his belt and suddenly Bruce let out an absolutely decadent grunt that Tony’d heard before, but only in triple-X theaters. And then he pursed his lips and groaned softly when Steve undid the clasp and his stomach flopped free. “Uhn. Sooo good.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Bruce. You’re giving the Boy Scout a hard-on.”

“Huh?”

Steve swallowed and stumbled back, bright as a strawberry. Tony waved him off, shrugging as he sat on the other side of the couch.. “It happens, Steve. Anyway, c’mon, Banner. Talk science to me. Give me some empirical data, instead of bunch of porno moans.“

“Um…yeah. Yeah.” Bruce ran a hand down his face, surprised at all the stickiness. Steve practically ran to grab a cloth, and Tony chuckled despite himself.

“Well?”

“Um…hang on, hang on. Gimme a minute to process.” Bruce took a few deep breaths and took the moist hand towel from Steve. He gradually came more to himself as he slowly wiped his mouth and chin. “It felt…really, really good.”

“Stating the obvious,” Tony said. He made the universal, get-to-the-point motion with his fingers. “And?”

Bruce struggled to sit up, but found it too hard, and flopped back down, grimacing at his huge stomach. “It works,” he finally said, “but not for the applications you’re thinking. I think if I strapped myself to this before a mission, I’d be too out of it to do anything.”

Tony nodded and stroked his chin. “Yeah. You were a little gone.”

They heard a snort, and Tony glanced over at Steve, who still was standing at full attention. In more than one way.

“But,” Bruce sighed, blinking slowly. “The meditative properties of this device far exceed my own experiences. It has the potential to calm me down better than anything else I’ve tried, and also I think it’s faster than anything else. As for the Other Guy–” and now Bruce suddenly pinked up, becoming somewhat subconscious of the dynamics in the room, “–He was absolutely quiet - enraptured, even. We both liked it - and that’s rare, Tony,” Bruce said, meeting Tony’s eyes. “ _Really_ rare. He gets restless if I meditate for too long, but this? Hell.” Bruce giggled softly. “We both, to put it in oh so indelicate terms, got off on it.”

“Uh, oh,” Tony said with an evil little smirk. He gently poked Bruce’s swollen middle. “That kinda talk’s gonna get you insanely bloated.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bruce said, shaking his head. His eyes suddenly brightened and he glanced at both Steve and Tony. “I don’t care if I end up getting bloated, or fat, or whatever. That’s less important than the applications of true, long term control. This funnel eating method calms down both of us pretty damn fast, and I need that. I _have_ to have alternate ways to calm Him down, when other people can’t.” Bruce smiled and shrugged slightly. “Plus, it’s delicious.”

Steve glanced down. He was still sporting a healthy chub, Tony noticed, but at least he wasn’t saluting the flag. So to speak. “You’ve spouted off all the positives,” Steve murmured. “But what about the negatives? You’re…kind of vulnerable, when you’re like that, you know. You probably need someone to help you decompress, afterwards.”

Bruce sighed. “Maybe. I think in time I’ll have ways of managing my emotional state.” He blushed furiously then opened his mouth and shut it again, carefully considering his next words. “Although…um. I also feel…unbelievably horny.” He shrugged and tried to avoid both Steve and Tony’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s probably a side-effect, but I can deal with that on my own.”

Tony squeezed his ankle. “Do you want to, though?”

“Ah, Tony. Heh. I…um.” Bruce swallowed nervously. “I mean–”

“Bruce,” Steve sighed, and Bruce tilted his chin. Tony looked up at Steve too, at this point, and was blown away at all he saw in those baby blues of the super soldier. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but still. Tony never expected the ol’ Boy Scout to have a libido that matched his own for Bruce.

“If you want,” Steve said quietly. He chewed his upper lip and folded his arms. “I mean, I know you two have…something, right?”

Tony and Bruce exchanged a look, and Tony ended up answering. “Sometimes.”

Steve pointed to him and Tony. “And you and I–”

“Sometimes,” Tony interrupted quickly. But Bruce nodded; he already knew.

“So is it a big deal, Bruce, if you and I–?”

Bruce’s cheeks flared. “No,” he said quietly, fighting a smile. “I mean, I…ah. Let’s just say I haven’t not considered the…um. The ‘you and I’ possibility, Steve.”

“Good.” Steve nodded firmly. His cheeks were as flushed as Bruce’s, but less from embarrassment, Tony thought. “Then,” Steve said in his typical, gotta do it by the book and be in charge way, “let’s take this to my room. See how it goes.”

Tony laughed. “Shit, that was fast.” He shook his head, a little mindfucked by the prospect. But why not, he supposed. “Bruce?” He gently massaged Bruce’s ankle. “You okay with this, buddy?”

Bruce’s cheeks were still crimson, but there was definitely more than a little interest. Tony fought down a wave of jealousy. “Yes,” Bruce sighed. “More than okay.”

“Hm. Well, if you two need any help in there–”

“I think we can handle it ourselves,” Steve interrupted, and Tony’s eyebrow rose, even as Bruce did a double take between the men. Tony got it, though. Steve wanted Bruce all to himself, the possessive asshole.

“It’s fine, Tony,” Bruce said. The grin on Bruce’s face was almost more than Tony could handle. “But I won’t say no to…something else. Later.”

Both of Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Kinky.”

Steve lifted Bruce from the couch even while he was still talking to Tony. “But anyway. Tony, I have some ideas I want to try. Huge adjustments to the funnel and burette components. I think it’ll change the dynamics of–”

“Science later, Bruce,” Steve rumbled.

Tony laughed as Bruce waved at Tony like a damsel in distress while disappearing down the hall, with Steve.

***

Tony holed up in the lab and fought down his lingering jealous thoughts with the schematics of Bruce’s funnel. It shouldn’t have taken long, but Bruce mentioned something that sparked his creativity, and the three-dimensional displays were giving him multiple ideas. Before long a few hours had passed. He stroked his chin, looking at two separate mock-ups, and wondered if he should consider merging the two, when he heard heavy footsteps - bare feet - coming up behind him. But he knew who it was; only one other person, other than Pepper, had access to his private lab without Jarvis alerting him first. “Hey, Bruce,” he said, without turning. “I was kinda thinkin’ we could– _mmf_?”

Bruce had grabbed his head, swiveled him around, and planted a deep kiss on his lips. “Whu–?”

“Just because,” Bruce said breathlessly. He still had his hands framing Tony’s face. “That, and you are beyond goddamn gorgeous when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jeal– _mmfgh_ …”

“You were,” Bruce breathed, after kissing him again. “Stop lying.”

Tony ran a tongue across his lips when Bruce finally let him go. “Is it…later?”

“Almost.” Bruce grabbed his glasses from his top pocket, and it gave Tony time to run his eyes across him, tip to tail. No shoes, and delightfully frumpy. Frumpier than normal, with shirttails half-tucked and unredeemably wrinkled khakis. Tony reached out and helped fluff up a few of Bruce’s curls, which were still matted behind his head.

“What, did you come directly from your perverted romp?”

“Hm?” Bruce peered at Tony’s displays and flipped one of his schematics to a third screen, so he could blow it up. “Pretty much. Steve’s out cold, but I had too many ideas in my head. Refrigeration, Tony.”

Tony blinked and stepped back, to examine Bruce more closely. “You. _You_ wore out the Boy Scout?” He shook his head and glanced at Bruce’s screen as Bruce fiddled with something. “No, no. That’s too big,” he muttered. He made a few adjustments. “You want it more compact. I’m assuming it’s gotta be portable.”

“ _Yes_ , me,” Bruce answered. He swiped something away and scratched his cheek at Tony’s new additions. “He can take it if I ‘Hulk’ a little, but you can’t--is that motor large enough? I mean, if things stay stored for too long, it might not have enough power.”

“Oh, oh, no you don’t. You are _on_ , big man,” Tony huffed. “You think you can outlast me? It is _so_ fucking–-no, not that size. _That_ one.”

“This?”

“Yeah. And this container.” He flipped the blueprint over and twisted his wrist. “This is where the motor can go, and there’s enough room for blades.”

“I’d crush you,” Bruce muttered. “Especially if I got any bigger. Which is bound to happen.” He blew up the container. “Stainless steel blades? Really? I thought plastic paddles would work better for churning.”

“Not if you’ve got ice chips. You don’t want those going down that tube. And what if you want something mixed in with it, like protein powder, or candy–? And fuck you, for thinking I’m weak. You won’t crush me, or hurt me. Do you know how many kinky things I’ve done with people weighing over five hundred pounds? Do you?”

That was enough to stop Bruce’s momentum. He opened his mouth, shut it, then peered over his glasses and stared at Tony. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s over seven,” Tony bragged, pulling something into their schematic. “So quit thinking I’m a weak, wilting flower. I knew you were holding back on me, Banner. Fuckin’ _knew_ it–-how many gallons? Too many, and we lose portability.”

“Four. No, five…” Bruce cocked his head. “Six?”

Tony snorted and gave Bruce the side-eye. “Six. Right. Okay.”

“Well, that’s what the storage tank is for,” Bruce said, glowering. “Not all at once, I’m not crazy. But six in a day…” he stroked his chin. “That’s doable.”

“If you’re a cow,” Tony muttered. He glanced briefly at Bruce’s belly. “You plannin’ on blowing up that much?”

Bruce shrugged and stared at the screens, typing in a list of attachments. “Dunno. I need a lot of things to keep me calm.” He swallowed nervously. “And I admit, I’ll probably get addicted to this thing--wait. What are you doing?”

He watched as Tony added new code. “Relay system.”

“For what?”

“For when you use it. We’re setting it up so you can use this at all hours without anyone’s help, right? Well, you still need a relay system. To alert Steve and I. Because I sure as hell ain’t letting you bliss out without me again.”

“Tony…it doesn’t need a relay system.”

Tony nibbled his lip. “Banner. You are amazing horny and high as fuck on sugar and carbs. Steve knows it, and I’ve seen it. You’ve gotta let us come take care of you afterwards. And, y’know. For protection purposes and all.”

Bruce chuckled darkly. “And you want a chance to fuck me when I’m like that.”

“That, too. But if the Boy Scout wants to watch, he’s welcome to.”

“Or…join,” Bruce muttered, moistening his lips.

“Or…that,” Tony said. He swallowed. “It’s later, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Yep. Definitely. Definitely later.”

They saved their work, and hightailed it to Tony’s convenient side office.

***

A few weeks later, Tony and Bruce had come up with a working model of an entirely portable (wheeled) self-feeding mechanism, that was both storage tank, and freezer. As they paraded it around Bruce’s apartment, Steve scrutinized it skeptically, and shook his head.

“How’s this thing supposed to work again? It looks…complicated.”

“Oh, for–”

“Tony,” Bruce cautioned. Tony made a face, but let Bruce talk. “It’s really pretty simple, Steve. It’s electronic, but it can hold up to six gallons of ice cream, ice milk, or protein shake, or any combination. You can also adjust the flow here…and here, and each leg can be adjusted for height. The tubing can easily be switched out with a larger, or smaller tube, and the mask is less…Hannibal Lecter, and more full face snorkel, without the eye gear.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Bruce, he’s not gonna understand all that. Look, Cap, it’s easy.” Tony opened the tank, showing him the inside. “Four quadrants, two gallons each. Each quadrant can be filled individually or corporately, with whatever you want - ice cream, candy pieces, doesn’t matter. Everything gets minced up, and fed through this tube, which is connected to the mouth guard. The whole thing’s entirely refrigerated, and self-cleaning, and it keeps at an ambient temperature. You can literally fill this thing, and then walk-away. A bunch of knobs on the front let you change the temperature, change how much you want, how fast you want it, or if it needs to reverse. And there’s a hand-unit,” Tony said, pointing to a palm-sized control gadget, “which puts all of that at your fingertips. Plus it has an emergency kill switch. It’s a thing of beauty! Flawless! What’s there to be scared of? What’s not to _like_?”

Bruce switched his feet. “We’ve already done a few test runs, Steve.”

Steve almost pouted. “What, without me?”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, so?”

Bruce scrubbed his hands with his face. “Oh, boy. Guys, just…c’mon, cut the testosterone in half. It’s not–” he sighed. “It _works_ , Steve, that’s what you need to know. And Tony was thoughtful enough to add a relay switch that alerts Jarvis - and subsequently, the two of you - after I’ve finished using it. If I…you know. Want…company.”

“Oh,” Steve said quietly.

“Damn right,” Tony said. “And you can thank me later.”

“I don’t foresee any problems,” Bruce continued. “Except. Well,” he chuckled nervously. “I’ll probably gain a ton of weight.”

“Which isn’t a problem,” Steve said quickly. Maybe too quickly? Tony suddenly understood, and barely stopped the dark giggle flowing from his lips because Cap has a fat kink (which he may or may not have sing-songed in his head). Heh. Well, he really couldn’t lie, he sort of did, too. Or rather, a Hulk-sized Bruce kink. Pretty much the same.

“Bruce,” Tony said. “Really, man. It just comes down to whether or not you’re okay with the set up. We don’t matter.”

“You both matter to me,” Bruce said quietly, and both he and Steve exchanged a penitent look. “And it looks like we’re…trying something new here, so I don’t want it to get messy between you two, or between me and you guys. So, can we just talk it out a second, before we go any further? Just to…y’know.”

“Set some ground rules?” Tony glanced at Steve.

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. Something like that. Although, maybe not rules so much. Just let me know if there’s anything either of you aren’t comfortable with, and I’ll do the same.”

Bruce glanced at Tony, and Tony grinned. “Bruce. Baby. You know it’s all good with me.”

“Even when Steve takes control?”

 _Ouch_. He winced. “ _Fine_. Steve, before you go all caveman on Bruce and carry him to your lair, can you at least ask me first? Maybe I wanna go first. Or watch. Or _join_.”

Tony didn’t think a human being could blush as quickly as Steve did. “Oh, uh. Sorry.” He shyly shifted his feet. “I didn’t think–”

“That’s the problem, you don’t.”

“Guys,” Bruce warned, and Tony swore he saw a green flash. “Steve. Any ground rules on your end?”

Steve finished glaring at Tony and softened his features to address Bruce. “Uh,” he tapped his fingertips together. “I haven’t considered any. I’m still ‘green’ as far as some of this goes–”

“Not that green,” Bruce and Tony said, simultaneously.

“Well.” Steve laughed softly and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a compliment, I suppose. But honest, Bruce, I’d rather know what you want. You want a set-up of some kind, so I imagine you want to set some rules of your own.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Cap and I can hash out whatever. We fight it out all the time.” Steve shot him a look; Tony shrugged. “It’s true. You know we do.”

Bruce nodded. “Okay. Then first, can we agree no recording? Of any kind? I know you, Tony. You like to go back and…look. But that makes me uncomfortable.”

“First come, first observe. Got it.”

Bruce shuddered. “Yeah. Something like that. And…I really hate PDA. In the bedroom, I’m good with whatever. But not in public.”

“Sure,” Steve said. “Anything else?”

Bruce began rubbing his hands, in that nervous way he always had when he wanted to say something, but was afraid of voicing it.

“Bruuuuce,” Tony drawled. “What aren’t you saying? Use your big words.”

Steve frowned. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Bruce licked his lips. “I should, though. Because…” he sighed. “I liked the feeling of being that stuffed. I liked it when–-” his eyes flickered to Steve “-–when you rubbed my stomach. And teased me. Called me names - I’m not done, Tony,” he said, holding up a finger when Tony made a noise of delight. “But bedroom, only, for all of that okay? Out here, it’s all business. If the rest of the team, or god forbid, SHIELD find out accidentally, then, fine. But it won’t be because we’ve said anything. Can we agree on that?”

“It should be private anyway,” Steve said. “What someone does consensually and behind doors should be up to them.”

“Tony?”

“C’mon, Bruce. That was clear from the start. As soon as you mentioned no filming, I figured everything else was off-limits.”

“Okay.” Bruce nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“But, man,” Tony began grinning like a maniac. “What did Spangles call you? You can’t let me _not_ know. You can’t keep me in suspense.”

“You’ll just have to be in the room next time, won’t you?” Both Tony and Bruce turned to Steve, lips slightly parted. “Oh, it’s not like you weren’t both thinking it,” he said, laughing.

“You do know, that we need a grand christening of this,” Tony said, patting their creation. “To test everything. Including the ground rules.”

“That we do,” Steve murmured.

A sly smile pinked Bruce’s lips. “I’ve got nothing planned for the next three hours.”

“Make it four hours,” Tony said.

***

It took time, but they found a regular rhythm between the three of them. Something where Steve wouldn’t monopolize all of Bruce’s time, and where Tony wasn’t always “experimenting” with Bruce while updating the self-feeder. They ended up needing a code word for the feeder to maintain their privacy (Tony wanted to name it “Fury” so they could say they were busy with Fury, but they ended up calling it “Bed” because Bruce found it easier to say he needed to “go to Bed” without [technically] lying).

During the first month, Bruce barely used it, because he didn’t want to disturb either Tony or Steve at the wrong time. But after an unscheduled Hulk-out,Tony and Steve made Bruce promise to use it whenever he had the need (and even when he just wanted to). And the frequency of Bruce’s use went from once a month-ish to monthly, to bi-monthly, to weekly…and after six months, every other day. Meanwhile, Bruce’s weight corresponded with Bed's usage. From gaining maybe two or three pounds in a month to the rapidly gaining schedule he was currently on - which had added, in total, nearly a hundred pounds to his once slim frame.

“Hmm…ten? I say ten.”

“Oh, no. More like fifteen.”

Tony made a face. “In a month? Ten buck says you’re wrong.”

Steve grinned. “You’re on.”

He and Steve were both naked as the day was long, and currently sitting in two of Bruce’s bedroom chairs. Tony had his feet propped on Bruce’s bed, and was going for a refill on his second glass of scotch. “Bruce, baby,” he yelled. “What’s the damage?”

“Don’t leave us in suspense,” Steve added.

“Hang on,” came the muffled response from the bathroom. There was a small shuffling noise before Bruce stuck his head around the door. “Holy crap,” he huffed, before returning to the bathroom. Then there was more shuffling, before he poked his head around the corner a second time. “Shit. It’s freakin’ 269. I checked twice.”

Steve howled, and bumped Tony’s shoulder. “Hah! Seventeen, Stark. Fucking seventeen pounds. You owe me ten.”

“Language,” Tony grumbled. “And I left my change in my other birthday suit, Rogers.”

But Steve was growling low in his throat. He rushed over to Bruce - a much fatter, but also happier Bruce from when they started - and hefted him, twirled him, and gently slammed him into the bed, even as Bruce squawked between giggles.

“You never growl like that for me,” Tony snorted, taking a drink from his refreshed scotch.

“Gain a hundred pounds, and we’ll talk,” Steve said. He grinned while squishing Bruce’s tubby, over-indulged stomach. Bruce whimpered quietly, and heat rushed to Tony’s groin. “Bruce is my not-so-little porkpie.”

Tony cringed and rolled his eyes. “I will never, ever ask about pet names again,” He grumbled. “I shouldn’t have been curious, because they’re right, curiosity does kill. I lose IQ points each time I hear it - Rogers, you know a porkpie’s a _hat_ , right?”

“And food,” Bruce said dreamily.

“Hmm,” Steve whispered. “You hungry, porkpie?”

“Not yet. But I might be, later.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He pinched Bruce’s thigh. “You need more meat on your bones. Can’t have you getting too skinny.”

Tony’s laugh was stuck in his throat, but he knew better; his times with Bruce as Steve watched were almost as bad. But he was positive their science puns sounded better. “Bruce,” he teased, “he wants you to stay a lard ass. A lazy, good for nothing chub, hooked to a machine, ballooning up for his sick pleasure. You gonna take that?”

“In here, you sure as hell know it.” Bruce sighed into Steve’s shoulder. “From him, and from you.”

It was Tony’s turn to growl. He finished off his scotch. “God. What hath we wrought, Rogers.”

“Something beautiful,” Steve murmured. He wrapped his hand around Bruce’s dick and squeezed gently; Tony did the same to himself, when he caught the lidded lust overtaking Bruce’s features.

Bruce licked his plump lips. “Mmm...Tony? Join-?”

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said, leaping from his chair, because he didn’t need a second invitation. Not now, not ever.

The two of them were just enough to sate Bruce - and Bruce was more than able to return the favor. Where he got the stamina, Tony never really knew, but he definitely didn’t mind it. It was the best sex he’d ever had - both receiving and giving. And whenever Bruce didn’t feel like receiving - on those days when he wasn’t fattened from Bed, but still horny - he’d watch him and Steve go at it. It was just as good watching Bruce from the sidelines; Tony never got tired of that blissed-out face.

And yeah, Bruce did get tubby. Beyond it, really. Fat enough that a lot of people started worrying about him when he surged past the 300-mark. But he and Steve assured the nosy that it wasn’t their concern, despite the curious frowns. And Tony proved to Bruce that no, he wasn’t that fragile, and Steve kept finding new nicknames at each of Bruce’s fatty milestones. And better still, Bruce never had to worry about the Hulk barging in unannounced because what they did _worked_. Their crazy, lustful days worked.

And when all was said and done, the trio were never happier.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sweet Places](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379013) by [cassiopea (nina_monk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk/pseuds/cassiopea)
  * [Steve Rogers Goes to Bed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874096) by [Molly_Ren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly_Ren/pseuds/Molly_Ren)




End file.
